


your flames crawling up my door

by herax



Series: Inquisitor AU [1]
Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Mild Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Torture, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herax/pseuds/herax
Summary: Even after months of service to the Empire, sometimes Cal is still too defiant for his own good. Fortunately, Trilla enjoys bringing him back into line.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri | Second Sister
Series: Inquisitor AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976353
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	your flames crawling up my door

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an Inquisitor!AU PWP with dom Trilla and sub Cal, so please feel free to give it a miss if that’s not your jam. <333 (If it is your jam though, please come yell about it with me.) We will return to our regularly scheduled hurt/comfort soon.

Cal doesn’t break the way Trilla was expecting.

She’s supervised enough conversions over the years that she knows the usual signs: the desperation, the begging, and finally the last flicker of hope leaving their eyes before they accept their place in service of the Empire. 

However, while Cal gives her all of those and more, there’s still something left in him once he turns, a rare spark of defiance even when cloaked in Imperial black. He performs his role as required and doesn’t attempt any true acts of sedition, but apparently neither all those months of torture nor sheer self-preservation are enough to stop Cal from pushing at his boundaries every chance he gets, especially when the two of them are alone together.

Trilla finds she enjoys it more than she should.

The washroom door slides shut behind her as she exits and Cal’s head turns in her direction, following the sound of her footsteps beneath the blindfold as she deposits her clothes down the laundry chute. 

She doesn’t touch him immediately, just stands beside the bed and watches him shift nervously in front of her. The restraints hold firm, the ropes around his wrists and ankles keeping him flat on his back and easily accessible, but his breathing quickens as he strains to hear her.

“Trilla?”

She can’t keep the triumphant smirk off her face when Cal’s the one to speak first. 

He jerks in surprise when she reaches out, running cool fingers along a jagged scar on his ribs — not one he received from her, sadly — but he doesn’t speak again when her hand moves up to trace the band of the collar around his throat.

“You were doing so well on Vassek,” Trilla says sadly. “Barely put a foot wrong the whole time.”

Even behind the blindfold, she knows Cal’s eyebrows are raised when he says, “That why you made me wear that plug the whole ride back?”

Trilla smiles at the memory. “I did say _barely_. Besides, are we pretending you didn’t enjoy that? You know how much I dislike liars, Kestis.”

He bites his lip, tugging on the ropes against as an embarrassed flush covers his cheeks, and Trilla’s smile widens at the lack of response.

“But then we get back and I find you training with purge troopers in the dojo without my permission,” she continues. “Very disappointing.”

He shifts anxiously on the bed as she unlocks her dresser and retrieves the toys for the evening. 

“I- I’m sorry,” Cal stutters. “I just- I needed to practise and you were-”

“Did I ask for your excuses?” she cuts in, voice cold. “It’s bad enough that you were disobedient; must you add insubordinate too?”

It’s clearly an effort for him to hold back further explanations but she’s pleased when he does so, slumping back against the bed. 

The sound of the match lighting is loud and unmistakable in the quiet of the room and Cal jerks back to attention immediately. “What are you doing?”

Trilla sighs and reaches down with her free hand to give him a quick slap across the face. 

Cal cries out, flinching more at the shock than the pain, and he stammers again, “I- I’m sorry.”

“Better,” Trilla says. She holds the match to the thick red candle, watching the wick ignite and the wax begin to melt. “Besides, you already know what I’m doing, don’t you?”

He relaxes a fraction when she blows the match out, sending a thin trail of smoke rising through the air, and he nods. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you remind me,” she says, pinching his inner thigh in motivation, “since you seem to be forgetting so many other rules lately.”

The candle is burning quickly, a small pool of wax growing around the wick, and she watches Cal clench his fists to stop his hands shaking when he says, “You’re doing whatever you want to me.”

The words wash over her, as familiar and reassuring as the force itself, and with Cal’s eyes covered, she allows herself a moment to enjoy the sensation.

“And you...?” she prompts.

The call-and-response was beaten into him during his first few weeks in her custody, forcing his acknowledgement and participation in everything that was being done to him, but she’s pleased to find Cal now sounds painfully sincere when he offers the required response.

“I’m grateful.”

The first drop of wax lands on his chest as soon as the words leave his lips. 

Cal gasps in surprise and shifts, sending the red wax spilling down over the curve of his ribs. It drips onto the bed, validating Trilla’s earlier decision to request a housekeeping droid for clean-up later, but Cal pulls on the ropes like he isn’t sure what just happened. “What-”

Trilla pours more onto him, a messy trail of droplets speckling his chest and stomach, and she watches his pained reaction with fascination. He flinches every time, stomach tightening like he’s trying to draw himself away from the liquid, but there’s no getting away as it hardens into blood-red stains on his pale skin. 

The skin itself reddens too under the heat, the wax just cool enough to hurt rather than burn, and Trilla fights the urge to put her mouth on him, to see how those marks taste against her tongue.

She does allow herself the pleasure of removing her bra while she waits for more of the candle to melt, and from the way he turns his head, she’s sure Cal recognises the sound of it dropping to the floor beside the bed. 

He’s half-hard already, has been since she tied him down, and she runs her knuckles down the underside of his cock as she asks, “Are you enjoying this?”

They both know there’s no right answer to the question but she relishes his tortured hesitation before he mumbles, “Yes.”

Another splash of wax, this time onto an old scar on his thigh. From the way he tries (and fails) to close his legs, it’s close enough to his dick to make him panic, and Trilla smiles as she says, “Yes what?”

Cal swallows hard but yelps when wax lands on his other thigh. “Yes, thank you, Trilla.”

She doesn’t know whether it’s the pain or the forced obedience which causes it but she smirks in satisfaction when his cock hardens further between his thighs. 

“I’m so flattered you remembered my name,” she says as wax splashes over the ridge of Cal’s hipbones. “I was wondering if you thought it was someone else here with you. The third brother maybe, or the fourth sister. Perhaps even some of those purge troopers you like spending so much of your time with.”

Cal shakes his head desperately, wincing as hot wax begins to trickle down the crease of his thigh. “No! No, Trilla, please, just you.”

The confirmation is a soothing one. It’s not that she really thought he would ever indulge with anyone other than her but the fear in his voice at the prospect of failing her provides even more comfort. 

The pain of the wax is nothing compared to what he’s been through before, mostly at her own hands, but combination of discomfort and vulnerability always seems to have the desired effect on both of them. His fear is intoxicating, whether she’s making use of him in the bedroom or holding her lightsaber to his throat in training, and she’s already wet when she slips her underwear off and moves to straddle his hips.

He startles at the contact and she smirks as she waits for him to realise what’s happening.

“Oh…” Despite everything, a stupid little grin crosses his lips when he asks hopefully, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Just for that, Trilla holds the candle close to his body, giving the wax even less time to cool as it drips onto each of his nipples in turn. 

Clearly expecting to be finished with the candle, Cal yells at the sudden splash, arching on the bed as he tries in vain to shield himself from her, and when he collapses back against the pillows, his breathing is shallow.

“I- I guess not,” he says, sounding appropriately chastised.

Trilla smiles even as she rolls her eyes. She sets the candle down on the table and crawls forward, letting her breasts press against Cal’s chest for a moment before she grabs his hair and tugs his head back. 

Cal groans but keeps his neck bared in submission, and Trilla presses a kiss to the leather of his collar as she murmurs, “I think I’ve heard enough from you tonight.”

She rests her thumb against his lower lip, stroking at the old scar there, and when she releases his hair, Cal tilts his head up in preparation for a kiss.

It doesn’t come, and Cal lets out a noise of protest when Trilla reaches back to retrieve her panties and push them past his parted lips. The lace muffles most of the sound, and Trilla laughs as she concentrates on tucking them firmly inside his mouth. 

“Not what you were expecting?” she teases. “I think this is a much better use for you. Don’t you agree?”

Cal whines through the panties, hips pushing up helplessly in search of stimulation, and Trilla sits back to let his cock rub lightly against the curve of her ass. 

“That was a question,” she reminds him, reaching for the candle again. “I expect an answer.”

It’s garbled, of course, but from the nod of his head, it’s clear enough what he’s trying to say.

She splashes wax down beneath his navel and feels pleasure course through her when he bucks in pain. 

“I didn’t quite catch that,” she tells him, punctuating it with a slow drizzle of wax over his collarbone. “Tell me what your mouth is good for.”

Cal’s whimper is stifled by the gag but a pink flush spreads over his face and chest as he mumbles something into the fabric.

The crimson splashes painted across his chest look closer to blood than wax, and Trilla smiles as she raises herself up above him, letting the head of his cock brush against her for the first time.

Cal groans, head tipped back against the pillow, and Trilla is careful not to let any wax hit her as she aims one last drop at the base of his cock.

Cal sobs, thighs jerking with the instinctive effort to curl up and protect himself, but the restraints don’t budge as Trilla sinks down onto him with a sigh of satisfaction. It’s been a few days since they did this and while their activities on Vassek were still very entertaining, she’s definitely missed being able to use him like this.

“Tell me again,” she says as she begins to move slowly on his cock. “More clearly, this time. You work for the Empire now, not some illiterate scrap rats. At least try to act like it.”

Cal bristles, that hint of defiance still lingering even now, but when Trilla starts to move faster, he groans and pushes up to meet her movements.

Blowing out the candle, Trilla tips the last of the wax over his torso before pausing and repeating herself, the warning clear in her tone, “Tell me what your mouth is good for. Now.”

His whimper goes straight to her clit, and she reaches down to rub slow circles over it as Cal tugs on his bonds again.

His cheeks are scarlet when he speaks again, shaping his words as clearly as the lace allows, “For holding your panties?”

She laughs but raises an eyebrow when nothing more is forthcoming. “Hmm?”

“Thank you, Trilla,” Cal adds quickly, and he tips his head back with a groan as she starts to move again. “Fuck, thank you…”

He knows better than to come without permission but Trilla enjoys reminding him anyway as she rolls her hips in a steady rhythm. “You come before I tell you and you’ll spend the next week on your knees. Understand?”

It’s anything but an empty threat, and she knows the memories of his last real punishment are fresh in his mind when he nods vehemently. The fear doesn’t stop him from groaning as Trilla grinds down against him though, and she spreads her knees wider to allow him to do more of the work beneath her.

She tips her head back with a sigh, feeling sweat build at the nape of her neck and trickle down her spine as she rides him hard. Her thighs ache with exertion, enough that she knows she’ll be feeling it for a couple of days, and she works her fingers over her clit as all the stress and politics and unfamiliarity of the last few days redirect themselves into a far nicer outlet.

Heat pools low in her belly and she doesn’t bother to hide her moan as she rides him faster. Below her, Cal is biting down on the lace filling his mouth and breathing hard through his nose in an effort to stave off his own release, and Trilla tries to ignore the fond flutter in her chest when she decides to be merciful, for once.

“I suppose you’ve done your best.”

Her own breath comes out in ragged bursts, enough that her attempt at sounding composed isn’t a total success, but Cal is too far gone to care. He begs behind the gag and Trilla relishes every last plea and whimper before she finally gives him the permission he’s seeking. 

“You can come, Kestis.”

As close she is to her own release, Trilla’s taken slightly by surprise by just how quickly Cal comes. The words have barely left her lips when he cries out, head tipped back on the pillows and hips pushing up against her thighs, and she bites back her own cry when she feels him spill deep inside her. 

Between the humidity of the room and the warmth between her legs, the heat that pulses through her is overwhelming, and Trilla pulls in one last lungful of air before she lets herself follow Cal over the edge. 

She comes with a breathless moan, her thighs trembling and her pussy clenching around him, and she has to brace herself against him as she drops forward, riding out the last tremors with her forehead pressed against his chest.

They’re both panting for breath when she finally rolls off him, and she’s more than happy to use his upper arm as a headrest when she settles on the bed and waits for her vision to clear.

Next to her, Cal makes another muffled noise and Trilla can’t keep the smile off her face when she reaches over to push the blindfold up over his hair and to tug her panties out of his mouth. 

“If you’ve put a single hole in them…” she warns, but as tired as she is, the threat lacks teeth.

Cal licks his lips, glancing over at her, but Trilla just stares happily up at the ceiling as she waits for the world to stop spinning with quite so much enthusiasm. 

“I, uh-” Cal starts, wiggling his feet as much as the restraints allow, and Trilla rolls her eyes.

“You know, I’m tempted to leave you there all night,” she says, looking down at the wax still marking his skin. “Red looks good on you.”

Cal laughs at that and when he leans over to press a kiss to her hair, Trilla’s resolve falters. 

After all, it seems a waste not to have those hands at her disposal too.

“You can take them off,” she allows. “The knots shouldn’t prove difficult.”

It’s a measure of how dazed he is from the sex that it takes him over two minutes to untie his bonds using the force. Trilla offers no help, just enjoys the little noises of concentration that Cal makes as he works, but when the last rope falls loose, she reaches over to rake her fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

He’s sleepy and pliant beneath her, and Trilla keeps herself just out of reach of a kiss when she asks, “I take it you’re now familiar on when to train with purge troopers?”

Cal’s brow creases as he pretends to think. “Hmm. Whenever I want?”

He laughs when Trilla pulls sharply on his hair and he squirms beneath her as he says, “Okay, okay, I get it! Only with permission.”

His eyes are more hazel than yellow when he meets her gaze, still shining with that damned spark of defiance, but Trilla finds she means it when she says, “Good boy.”


End file.
